BOYS & THEIR BOATS

I have photographer friends who plan their photo shoots with surgical precision. I don’t do that. I have a plan, sort of like Christopher Columbus had a plan. I set out in a general direction with something in mind but I often end up somewhere else, in discovery mode. A few days ago I went up the coast to Sleeping Bear National Lake Shore, one of my favorite places to trip the shutter button. I did well enough but ended the day back where I had begun, in Grand Haven, MI. Sunset pictures with the lighthouse and breakwater in the frame are always new and interesting. Some painters paint the same landscape again and again but none of the paintings look alike. Photographs are like that; you can get redundant images but sometimes the photo reveals an undiscovered element. I took lots of frames that were repetitious for the most part but sooner or later you find a pearl. Changing angles, aperture and focal length, I zoomed in and out, shifted framing from vertical to horizontal but anybody who wasn’t inside my head with me would just see the same lighthouse in every frame. In the end, I look for a few particular shots that please me most and delete the rest. I knew I had some good photos to work with and was walking back to the parking lot. The river channel is walled on both sides with a sidewalk and railing at the top. Normally the lake/river level is about 8’ below the top but that day swells were washing over the walkway. I hadn’t thought about it but it was a no-brainer, there would be wind advisories and small craft warnings. It’s mid October; the ‘Gales of November’ are still weeks away but the day’s bluster and blow were a warning of what’s to come. 

The sun was down but the wind was still howling. Cradling my camera in one arm, looking down, I heard the unmistakable, deep throated burble of a big, marine engine, idling it’s way through the channel. I looked up and there it was, too close for the big lens on my camera but no time to do anything but find the boat and press the shutter. By the time I pulled the camera down and looked for myself the boat was passing me by, easing it’s way out into the big lake. I found it again in the view finder and took another frame. What made the moment special was the way it made me feel. The photos are what they are and they’re not bad but the feeling was one that doesn’t come around very often. 

First of all, the boat is special. It’s the U.S. Coast Guard 47’ Motor Life Boat. It is expensive to build and expensive to operate. They don’t send them out on everyday duty. There is a 25’ boat that does just about the same duty, in light seas, for a fraction of the cost. The 47’ has capabilities that make young men forget to breathe and emit guttural sounds that they are unaware of. I think it’s safe to say, every young C.G. recruit comes aboard with the desire to someday, crew aboard the 47-footer in heavy sea. The boat is designed to operate in hurricane conditions, notably on the coast of Oregon and Washington. But the Great Lakes have their ‘Gales of November’ and anyone who takes them for granted may join the many shipwrecks at the bottom of Michigan and Superior. In the event the 47’ boat goes upside down, nothing stops, nobody panics. The boat rights itself in under 10 seconds and the mission continues. 

Second, the boat was so close I could see the crew, perched on the upper bridge; nobody wants to bee down and in. My eyes aren’t good enough to read facial cues but body language was loud and clear. They were excited. They don’t leave this boat moored at a dock. When not in use it rests in a dry dock sitting on the pier, under a hoist that can ease it into the water on short notice. Its aluminum decking is polished and every system has redundant features that guarantee continuous function, even when something breaks. The man in the captain’s chair looked lean and fit, probably a Chief Petty Officer. The others were leaning on framework or hanging onto hand holds and you could feel their excitement. This was probably a shakedown cruise, preparation and rehearsal for the real thing. November will soon be upon us and tales of storms on the Great Lakes don’t need to be exaggerated to boggle the mind. I trust the night’s cruise was a test, not only for the boat but the crew as well. They were prepared and they were excited, I could feel it as surely as if I were on the boat with them. I remember, clear as crystal, sitting by the open door, climbing out above 12,000 ft, nearing the exit point, making eye contact with my fellow jumpers, not bothering to conceal the grin and unspoken excitement. In just a few minutes we would tumble out of a perfectly good airplane, miles above the earth below and free fall for over two miles before opening our parachutes. The recipe calls for good equipment, thorough preparation, pure skill, self confidence and trust in your cohorts. The flash in the eyes and the toothy grin require no other provocation. 

I don’t think it has anything to do with gender. I know women who stretch the envelope with skill and risk, with purpose and preparation so the fact that there were no women on board is irrelevant. But in this case it was boys and their toys. I spent a few minutes not having to look back at them as they disappeared beyond the breaking waves. I identify personally, my excitement for them and their quest was almost equal to theirs. I love the Coast Guard, have for a very long time. It is the only service whose ultimate purpose is absolutely noble, to rescue and preserve life rather than to neutralize or destroy the enemy. I drove by the Coast Guard dock the next day and the 47’ boat was high and dry in its sling. When they came back in they had to be tired and ready for a break but I'd bet the grins were still in place.